Freedom, Justice
by LaSiciliaBella
Summary: The friendship of America and Romania from 1880 to present. Wars, violence, and other events will test their relationship. Undergoing changes to plot.
1. It's a Hot Day

Author's note: This is based off a long history of U.S.-Romania relations. The earliest connections between the two nations were on June 20, 1866. After becoming a kingdom, Romania then gained recognition from other nations, including Russia and Ottoman Empire in 1878-1880. America and Romania began their diplomatic relations on June 11, 1880. However, it wasn't until 1921 that a U.S. Minister was commissioned solely to Romania. Relations continued until December 12, 1941 when the relations were severed during World War II when Romania declared war on America. America didn't do the same thing to Romania until June 5, 1942. The relations were reestablished on October 1, 1946. However, it was still cold. After Romania rejected the Soviet attack on Slovakia, the relations became stronger and were elevated to Embassy status on June 1, 1964. Since the 1989 Revolution, the relations between the nations have grown much stronger. Romania is one of U.S.'s strongest allies and the two have been supportive of each other for the last 20 years.

The human name for Romania is Mircea Viteazul. And don't lecture me on name. This was after I made APH Romania page did I look up the names. It's too late for me to change it.

...

June 22, 1880, Bucharest

The brunette haired nation sighed. "God, it's so hot here..." he thought bitterly, fanning himself with a large fan that was given to him by a pretty lady earlier. Then he had an idea.

Making sure that no one was around, Mircea then undid his shirt at the collar and he was about to move down when an officer caught him.

"Mr. Romania! What are you doing?" The irritated officer asked him angrily. "You know you have guests…"

Mircea huffed. "I know, sir. But, it's so hot so I thought about opening a bit just to cool down would be a good idea." He was still sitting there on a chair, his shirt now open a bit. He resumed the fanning, however. The officer then sighed.

"I know what you mean. I hate being in this uniform, but I have to do it anyway. And you should, too." The young officer, called Ioan, then took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating face with it. "I should be getting back to my duty. I'll see you around, Mircea." He then waited for the nation to get up.

The Romanian got up and saluted him. "See you around, Ioan." Ioan returned the salute, clicked his heels together and left Mircea alone. He watched him go. Then, laughter behind him.

"Oh, wow… he chided you for trying to cool down, Romania!" A blond haired man had just appeared from nowhere. Mircea scoffed. He eyed the American a bit then broke into a smile.

"Real cute, America. I'm sure you would have done the same thing anyway." he chuckled. Alfred grinned as well.

"I've been here at your place for just a few days and already, I like you, but as a new friend." He added quickly. At this, the Romanian laughed so hard. "Da, we're becoming good friends. But….um….you're getting hot as well?" he asked, now seeing the American doing the same thing he had done earlier. Alfred huffed. "Yeah…the hell with society rules." The American muttered. "There! So, now what?"

Mircea muttered. "I don't know. I do know that we have been asked by our bosses to wait for them here. What's taking them so long?" He sighed, then leaned against the pillar, still sweating. Couldn't they have done that at night? Of course not. It was 1880 after all. Ladies killing themselves by wearing corsets, men smoking cigars, and still there was hatred for other ethnic groups. Some life.

"Want to do something after the meeting?" he asked. Alfred grinned. "Sure."

"Then, we're on." Mircea grinned. With that in minds, the two nations then fixed their shirts and headed to the meeting together.

…

As the carriage clattered along the brick streets of Bucharest, the nations sat opposite each other. America looked bored. It was night and Romania plastered his face against the window. He lived here after all. The two had changed clothes for the bar. At the last minute, the important people decided not to have a formal dinner. It was to everyone's relief.

Then, the carriage stopped. The footman called out. "We're here, gentlemen." The second man opened the door quickly. Alfred came out first, then Mircea. "Thank you both." He gave them tip, then followed Alfred into the bar.

Voices greeted them. While America went to look for seating, Romania ordered drinks and he brought them over. Handing Alfred one, the Romanian then sat down and took a drink. The American then stared at him before sipping.

"Nice to be among your people is it, Mircea?" he asked, now smiling. At the mention of his name, Mircea stopped, then smiled. "Yeah, Alfred. It is." For most of the night, they stayed until only one man remained. Finally, they got up and left. On the way to Mircea's place, Alfred just looked out of the window in the carriage. Mircea was asleep, his arms crossed. The American couldn't help but stared at the Romanian. Pale skin- it gets a bit darker in summer- red eyes, brown hair, his fang-like teeth sticking out. And a medium body build. His ears were pierced by red earrings. In the past, it was hoops.

Mircea woke up and caught Alfred staring at him. "You're just admiring, aren't you?" he asked, blushing a bit. Embarrassed, Alfred just nodded and blushing as well. "We're here. C'mon- I'll help your with your luggage."

Once inside, Romania told his guest where to stay. "It's third on your left. My room's right across yours. Well, good night." he said, smiling. Alfred nodded, then went into his.

The Romanian lay down on his own bed, now quite happy. "I have a feeling that we'll be good friends. But I wonder if time will test us?" he muttered to himself. In the end, he went to sleep.

…

A/N: There's more to come. Forgive me if it's not flowing clearly. It's 12:30 AM here now and I'm getting a bit tired. So please rate and review 3


	2. The Robbery, Part 1

Author's note: Fufufu~ Heh. Thanks everyone who reviewed my first chapter~ Now, on with the story~ By the way, there were actually brothels in 19th century Washington, D.C. They were sometimes called "whorehouses". It was common across the nation to see a brothel/ whorehouse up to mid-20th century.

...

_1891, Washington, D.C._

A yawn emitted from the blonde haired nation as he sat in the front of the wagon. _Where is he? _he thought. Lying down across the seat, America then put his arm across his eyes as a shield from the bright sun. It felt good to have the sun shining on his skin.

"Alfred. Hey~" A voice with Romanian accent called out. "Sorry for being a bit late. I had issues with a few ladies. They wanted me to come inside to their whorehouse. Well, the brothel..." Romania muttered to himself, still quite annoyed at the incident. He was not in a mood for a quick hook up. Besides, he wasn't the type to waltz with this kind of ladies.

Alfred blinked in confusion, then frowned. "Yeah, I had the same problem the other night. One woman made me grope her bust..." He shuddered at the memory. "So! To continue our friendship, I've decided to take you to the train station- we're taking a trip to Texas." Mircea blinked this time.

"Texas? Wasn't that state where you had to fight for it from Mexico in 1830s?" he asked, wondering why. The American waved it off.

"Yes. But things have changed. The people have been doing well, especially in oil business. So, I just wanted to show you a few of the best cities in the country. You in?" Alfred asked, now grinning.

"Da. I've been curious about the West, anyway~" Mircea answered, smiling now. He then got onto the seat next to Alfred. "Giddup!" the American called out to the horses. With whinnying from them, they pulled the wagon forward to the train station. In the back were their chests. Then, those who could afford could be away for weeks, even up to two or three months. This resulted in lot of clothes and necessaries for the journey.

As they rode through, the nations talked about plans for improving their relationship. At the same time, Mircea was trying to conceal his feelings for the blonde haired nation. They only knew each other since 1866, but didn't really form a relationship for another 14 years. Romania fell quiet for a while. He watched the people walking by and other drivers of wagons and carts. Some of them were swearing at each other to move out of the way. The scene was similar to the markets back in Bucharest- people trying to move through heavy-packed places.

_Some things never change. _He thought. Alfred brought him to attention. "You okay? You were really quiet." He asked, concerned. Mircea blinked. "Oh, yeah. I was just thinking."

The American snorted. "You and your thoughts. Ah! We're now at the station. Let's get help." He announced, now smiling.

…..

In the station, it was quieter than normal. The Romanian went to sit down on the seat while waiting for America to come back with tickets. As he resumed his people watching, something caught his eye.

"… c'mon, buddy. We need to get into the caboose and stay with the safe. Oh, don't look so worried. We'll be fine. Those assholes won't know what hits them. Hey, they're just fucking idiots…" A large man with one o' clock shadow, talking to a smaller man. Scars ran down their faces. Mircea continued to watch them, then looked up as Alfred returned.

Alfred then turned to what Mircea was looking at. He then scowled. "You and I need a plan to stop them…" he muttered. Romania then nodded in agreement. "Let's get the contactors and policemen on this."

Within minutes, the group was standing by the columns, talking over then plan. "….. we need to get to the train before they do. It's likely that they could have a larger gang with them. In that case, I'll have three of my men by the main entrance, the rest by all exits. I have more outside if they should ever manage to escape. The contactors can stay at their usual posts like normal. You two should be in the caboose by then. Everyone got it? Let's go." The captain of the police ordered.

"Let's get to the caboose. I have an idea that will get us inside without announcing ourselves~" Mircea said, smirking. Alfred smiled coyly as well. "Heh," he said. Once they reached the caboose, Mircea then used his hands to perform magic. Slowly and quietly, he slid the door open, then went inside. He reached out for America's hand. "Here."

"Thank you. Now, let's get these motherfuckers!" The American cackled as he followed Romania inside. Inside, it was dark with bits of light seeping through cracks from the lamps in the station. "Let's get behind these crates. I'll cast a spell on us that'll mute the sounds." Mircea explained as they went to get behind the crates. The safe was in the back. The two had later learned that one of the thieves would dress as a guard.

Moments later, as expected, two thieves went inside. Apparently, they managed to give the police a slip. The rest of gang have been captured and arrested. Now, all the nations had to do was to jump them from behind. That was the plan until both of the thieves went to another car. Both nations blinked in surprise.

"What the…? What are they planning to do in the other cars?" Mircea asked, wondering and a bit pissed. "Search me," Alfred muttered. The safe would have to wait. But the spell was wearing off. "The spell… aren't you going to do another one?" Alfred asked. Mircea shook his head no.

"Nah- I'd rather have them notice us. Better than have sneaking around and lose them. You up for some fun?" Romania asked, now smirking. America smirked back. "Always~"

…..

To be continued

…

Author's note: Sorry I took so long. I've been busy with some things, but I finally got this up. Anyway, rate and review~


	3. The Robbery, Part 2

A/N: Sorry for a /long/ delay. Shit happened.

Anyway, last time, Romania and America were on the train on the way to Texas and they discover that there was a robbery planned. So, on with the story~

Oh, yeah. Originally, I was going to have Romania's surname as Viteazul, but since it's a royal title, I have changed it to Tomescu. Plus, I've changed his eye color from red to brown. Just trying to be a little more respectful to my Romanian readers~

...

Getting off the caboose and into another car, the nations held on the back of the seats to steady themselves since the train was moving. Or so they thought. The train lurched forward and it caused Romania to fall backwards into America, who was behind him.

"Oof! I hadn't realized that the train wasn't moving at all. You ok, Alfred?" Romania asked, slowly getting up to his feet.

"Yeah… ow…," America muttered, rubbing the back of his head. He had hit the floor pretty hard, even though it was carpeted. Slowly, Alfred got up while avoiding blacking out. Mircea was watching him, concerned for his friend. Then, loud crashes rang out in another car up front.

"C'mon. Let's see what's going on…" Alfred muttered, still getting up. With his outreached hand, Mircea pulled him up. "You need to get that mark of yours to get looked at," he sighed, frowning. The American just glanced at him.

More crashes. Then, screams. "These fucking sons of bitches are really getting on my nerves…" America growled. Romania could just nod in agreement. The eyes were now icy with anger. Then, Mircea's eyes just dulled. At the lighting speed, the Romanian kicked the door to another car open. He then stood aside for the American to have a go at the thieves. Alfred's eyes were filled with fire, mainly anger.

"Hey, asses, I see that you're doing a good job scaring people. Let me clean your clock." He said, smirking and with a strong punch, he knocked down one robber. Mircea was facing the other one. His brown eyes were still dulled as he ducked the punches the second robber, named Barton, was throwing. "Heh, you still fight like a woman. Here, let me help you." With that, the Romanian ducked another punch and he grabbed Barton's neck.

Barton choked, making gagging sounds. "Ack… l-let me go!" With such a force, he punched the Romanian on his jaw from upwards. Before Mircea had time to realize it, he stumbled onto a seat behind him. Ladies screamed and men ran out with the ladies in the tow. "Damn it.." he muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. There was blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

The man chuckled. "Got you hard, did I? Well, have another taste of this! And this!" he chuckled as he was punching the Romanian like a punching bag, hitting him in his stomach. Something inside Romania snapped. He grabbed Barton's hands and pushed them upwards.

"You have made a big mistake of attacking me.." Mircea snarled, lifting Barton up and threw him across the car. Barton's head hit the wall and flopped to the seat. He wasn't dead, though.

Alfred, on the other hand, was still fighting with the first man named Smith. Smith was rough bearded; a scar on his left cheek from an earlier fight and was broad shouldered. He was trying to knock down the American. "Why don't ya jus' shove off?!" Smith spat, grabbing a fistful of America's hair and he threw him some three feet into the Romanian. Both fell down. But Alfred wasn't going to let Smith stop him.

"TAKE THIS, YOU SON OF BITCH!" the American yelled, jumping up and punched the taller man right into his nose. With a grunt, Smith then grabbed a broken chair leg and Mircea who was getting up, was hit in the back of his head as Smith took a swing at him. In a second, the Romanian was knocked out. Smith laughed, wiping blood from his face. "Your friend is too slow.."

In a furor, America latched himself onto Smith from behind. "Don't you attack my friend!" he screamed and before he could sock the other in his jaw, Smith went backwards and knocked Alfred into the wall hard enough for him to fall off. By then Barton was getting up, still bleeding. "C'mon, Barton. Let's get the safe." Smith muttered, getting Barton. Both ran back to the caboose.

Alfred woke up after being knocked out of cold. "Ugh.." he groaned, then crawled over to his Romanian friend. "Mircea? Are you all right? Talk to me.." he muttered quietly, sitting beside Romania. In a while, Mircea woke up with a groan.

"Wh-what happened..?" he muttered, trying to get up. Then he felt a huge bump on his head and remembered. Smith had knocked him out hard. Groaning in pain, Mircea's head pounded. Alfred was watching him and sighed with a relief.

"We'll have to get the robbers in a while. But I don't know if we can trap them." The American sighed. He was glad that his friend wasn't hurt badly. Romania then chuckled.

"I won't worry about it. I've set up a spell that would trap them in the caboose until the police arrest them." Sure enough, the robbers screamed as the spell launched ropes around them.

Alfred smirked. "Smart. Let's get you medical treatment." He picked up Mircea and half carried him to a car where the doctor was. The doctor looked up. Calling for nurses, he gestured Alfred to lay Mircea down onto a bed.

"We'll let you know so you can come back." Dr. Foster spoke up, smiling a bit, "He'll be fine." Alfred nodded, then left to take a seat nearby outside the room.

…..

An hour later, the train pulled into a train station in Oklahoma. The police in Tulsa have been informed by the officials in Washington, D.C. about the attempted robbery and went onboard to arrest Barton and Smith. They'll be sent back to the capitol. After the police left, security went up by another room where the nations were staying.

Alfred was reading a novel while Mircea was resting in a bunk that has been pulled down. With a stir, the Romanian slowly lifted his eyelids and looked around. The train swayed in a pattern. He was shaking along with it. Trying to get up on his arms, Mircea trembled before laying back down again. He had gotten queasy and felt really sore. So he could only watch the American. "Hey, Alfred.." the Romanian called out.

Hearing his name, America looked up from his novel and smiled as he saw that Romania was awake. "Hey, Mircea… how are you feeling?" he asked, concerned. Alfred had gone over to Mircea and sat next to him, stroking his hair. He had gotten treatment for his injuries himself.

"Like I'm going to throw up… this pain is making me want to scream.. I'm also dizzy as well." The Romanian muttered, laying there as the American stroked his hair. America smiled a bit.

"Just rest.. you took rough beating." He muttered, stroking Mircea gently on his face. In a while, Mircea went back to sleep. He'll eat later or the next day. They would be travelling for another six days. Alfred remained with him as he read the novel.

Within themselves, both had growing feelings for each other, but not yet ready. It would be best to keep that at a friendship level.

….

A/N: I just realized something. It would have taken two or three days for the train to get to Tulsa from Washington, D.C., not the whole day, in 1890. OTL. I need to check the facts more carefully next time. But I may toss in sex scenes- oh, within two or three chapters~


	4. New Feelings

A/N: Sorry for a month long delay. That and before you decide that they should start dating, hold on there. It's still early plus until late last century; many people who were homosexual or bisexual tend to keep their sexuality secret due to others' views on homosexuality. Although there have been records of people swinging that way for thousands of years- records even mentioned famous people being gay- for some, the best way to do it was in the whorehouses and other places most consider "sinful".

Really, I can't make them date right away, because one: Romania's people were and still are traditional plus they're very religious. Another thing if they did that, it would be in the news within days and they could be the talk of the town (in 19th century, many towns in western USA were just starting out and most people in these were church going Protestants). I think.

Anyway, on with the story~

...

As the train crossed the state line, the nations were playing poker in their compartment. Mircea was healing nicely since the fight. He wasn't dizzy or light headed. Actually, the first day, the Romanian was so ill that the American had to call for a bucket so that Romania could vomit in. Then he went out for five hours. Meanwhile, America had to look after him. But he didn't mind.

When Alfred had to change Mircea's clothes as the latter was still ill (Dr. Foster told Alfred to expect that for a few days), it took him about fifteen minutes to do so. This, however, gave the American a chance to bathe him. Doing so meant that he get to look at Mircea's body in between the changes. He noticed that the Romanian had flogging scars on his back. On the front was a large, old Y-shaped scar on his chest. As expected, there were numerous scars from fights and wars.

Alfred wanted to touch Mircea's chest, but was unsure. Romania then looked at him and nodded. As gently as possible, the American slid his fingers down Mircea's chest, touching his scars. Blush spread across their faces. His skin was soft- somewhat. The Romanian moaned a little. He hasn't been touched like this for a long time. As Alfred traced his scars, Mircea held his hand. "Try not to tease me so much…" America nodded, then moved his hand to his neck.

For a while, Alfred caressed him like that. Finally, the Romanian decided to get into different clothes and with the American's help, he did so. Lying down once again, Mircea just looked at America before going back to sleep. He was still tired from being in so much pain. All Alfred could do was to look after his friend and he sat down to write in his journal.

'Take it easy…' he thought, a bit worried.

…..

Two days later, Romania was feeling better. Now, he was playing poker with America. Trying to beat him, Mircea drew two and turned the cards over. Alfred smirked, showing him a full house. "I win."

"_Futu-i_. Ah… I'll just watch out of the window." He muttered, leaning back in the seat. Alfred smiled a bit. "Takes practice. Besides I'd rather bet food than money. We do need money for the trip, anyway." He put the cards away and sat next to Mircea. By then, the Romanian was feeling a bit tired- these days, he spent part of the day sleeping just to save up his energy. At one point, the American thought he was nearly a vampire because of his recent sleeping habit but then he didn't think so. The injury was making him feeling that way.

"Hey, Mircea. If you're feeling up to it, we can get some drinks. I'll go see what they have. Also, we're going to one of the ranches in the country after we visit the cities. I wondered if you'd like to see that.." Alfred asked, smiling a bit nervously. He just scratched the back of his head. After a while, Mircea nodded. "I'd love to. I have never seen a ranch before." He replied, smiling softly. The sunlight shined on his face, showing his facial features. Never has Mircea looked so… wonderful. His light olive complex skin, a slight Roman nose, angler chin, thin pink lips, wild brown hair, and brown eyes- a perfect combination of his face. And his red earrings. Dazed, America was staring at his face.

Mircea got a bit concerned at this. "Alfred.. are you feeling all right? You seemed to be out of it." That saying had shook the American out of his thoughts. "Sorry, but the way you look. I was…just distracted by it." He answered, blushing madly. The Romanian smiled a little, also blushing too.

"Just get the drinks before you get all over me." He chuckled, his laugh a tittering kind. Without thinking, he kissed the American on his cheek. Pulling away quickly, Romania muttered, "_Pardon_. I'll let you go then." Mircea turned his head away quickly, now redder in his face. Alfred flushed at this too and he cleared his throat, then left for the drinks.

At the bar, the American was still replaying the kiss in his head. A bartender interrupted him. "Excuse me, sir? Your drinks.."

"Oh, thank you." After paying him, Alfred carefully carried the drinks back. Looking up, the Romanian got up slowly and opened the door for him, then closed it again. He turned to see what America got.

"I got us whiskey if you don't mind," he replied, smiling. Romania grinned, then took his drink and drank it slowly. "Wow, strong as tucia. It's a popular drink in my country."

The American laughed a little. "Yeah. That's what I like about whiskey. Gets you going." Smiling, the Romanian sat back down and continued drinking. He leaned back in his seat, still tired from the injury. Alfred sat down opposite him. His blue eyes then moved to watch the scene pass by the window. The train continued to rattle all the way to Dallas, Texas.

…..

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but rate and review, please~


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